


After You

by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Stiles, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Author Stiles Stilinski, Baby Cora Hale, Blow Jobs, Bottom Peter Hale (mention), Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Broken Engagement, Businessman Chris Argent, Chris Argent/Victoria (minor) - Freeform, Cock Ring, Editor Lydia Martin, Editor Peter Hale, Engame Steter, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Grief, Humor, Infidelity, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moving On, Noah Stilinski/Melissa McCall (minor), Sex, Talia Hale/Original Male Characters, Top Peter Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski (mention), Young Derek Hale, Young Laura Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rjaejoo/pseuds/FlyAwayMeow
Summary: It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

**_Prologue:_ **

 

It’s like a vacuum in their living room. Chris is sitting in his favorite chair, face blank and staring at Peter. Between them on the coffee table is evidence of his indiscretion. Peter stands there numb. _Maybe it’s time to let go_. _Maybe this is all we ever were meant to be._ His chest is wound tight and his muscles are locked up. Peter rubs his hand across his heart hoping it will help relieve the tightness even just a little. He so desperately wants to scream and shout, to rage and hit, but instead, all he can do is stare at Chris. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath, instead only making a stuttering sound when it catches in his throat as his lungs freeze up. It appears air is too inconsequential to his body when his heart is shattering into tiny little fragments. Peter tries again and this time manages a shallow intake. Carefully he relaxes his fist and opens his eyes, only this time he doesn’t look at Chris. Instead, his head is already turning, his mind made up.

With shaky steps he makes his way into their bedroom, heading over to the large walk-in closet. He grabs a suitcase and a duffle, the only things he will really need will fit fine in here. Everything else he can buy at a later date. Peter feels disconnected with reality even though she’s screaming right in his face. Robotically he reaches up and pulls down some dress shirts, grabs several pairs of pants and matching jackets, and a tie or two before making his way to his dresser. Here he grabs his essentials: underwear, t-shirts, and socks. A couple of pairs of jeans and a couple of favorite sweaters join the pile and then he’s heading over to the bathroom. Peter goes to grab his toothbrush, hand stopping over the head before changing his mind. It is part of a matching set with Chris, and well, they no longer match. Instead, he leaves it behind, taking one last glance to see if there is anything of importance remaining.  

Peter’s last stop is the nightstand drawer on his side of the bed. He digs to the bottom and removes a large manila envelope, an offer inside for an editing position his friend Lydia has been trying to persuade him to take. Peter had been waffling on whether to even tell Chris or to just chuck it in the trash after declining. He is suddenly grateful that he waited to make a decision. It looks like his decision has now been made.

Peter’s eyes catch on the platinum ring on his left hand and he stops to stare at it, drawn into a memory. _One heartbeat, two, three…_ With a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, he reaches over and twists it off before gently laying it on the nightstand. He will no longer need this as well. He stares at it blankly for a moment before gasping a shuddering breath and walking away.

Grasping the handle of his suitcase after slinging the strap of his duffle over his shoulder, the man hesitates when he approaches the door, aware he’ll need to walk by his ex-fiance to leave the apartment. The devastated man refuses to look around at all the memories scattered around the room. He is not strong enough for that torture. Instead, he will stick with the ones from before that are not tainted by this moment. With this last thought Peter takes a deep breath and straightens up, shoulders are thrown back in a mockery of courage and pride he feels that he sorely is lacking, but desperately wishes he had. With a nod to himself, he walks through the door.

As he approaches Chris, Peter reaches into his pocket and pulls out his key ring, stopping to take off his copy for their ( _his_ he silently amends) home. He sets it down on a side table and goes to walk on, only to stop after one step. Chris is looking at the key and when he raises his head and looks Peter in the eye, the other man quietly speaks with a tear filled eyes and a bitter smile, “You could have just told me you wanted to end it, I would have understood.”  

With this said, Peter resumes his walk to the door. As he opens it to let himself out one last time, he calls back quietly without looking behind, “I’ve taken everything I need, you can get rid of the rest. I won’t be back.” The door latches with a tiny snick of sound and the room once again falls into silence.

Chris sits staring at the door, wondering where the hell it all went wrong between them.

 

~~~~~

 

He’s trapped in another memory tonight. A crystal cut tumbler of whiskey on the rocks in his left hand, the calloused finger of his right lightly tracing the picture frame of the two of them. It’s the only thing he keeps exposed of their time together. After Peter had walked out, Chris had eventually made his way to their, _his_ bedroom. Everything had looked the same, except for the platinum ring on the nightstand. Cold and lonely lying by itself instead of warm on the hand of the one he loves.  

As he had walked around the room Chris had looked at the framed photos sprinkled across the surfaces, little mementos of happier times tucked between them. There was the dried flower daisy chain that Peter had made as a joke on their first date, once fresh and pretty, so full of promise, now looking brittle and just _dead_. A few sea shells with letters written on the tops that spell out ‘You’re so Beautiful’ next to some photos of the beach where they had become engaged eighteen months ago, now looking out of place on the shelf. Lying on the chair in the corner of the room was Chris’ old blue hoodie, a favorite of Peter’s to snuggle in. It was draped across the seat and no longer looked like it was comfortable and well loved. Instead, it looked like what it really was, a natty tattered piece of cloth held onto for sentimental value long past its expiration date.  

Chris swims out of the memories and takes another swallow of the liquid, holding it in his mouth before letting it burn its way down his throat. This is his nightly ritual for the past two years.  Stuck in the past of happier times, embittered to what he did to ruin it all. _Drowning drowning drowning…_

 

~~~~~~

 

Peter has been gone for over two years and to be honest, stepping back into the state is a little traumatizing both emotionally and mentally for the man. The night it had all ended, something else had begun. He had driven himself to a hotel closer to the airport and booked himself a room for the one night. The following morning he had bought a ticket on the earliest flight to New York City, stopping by the bank to give notice regarding his plans to move cross country so they didn’t think his bank card had been stolen. He had left their joint account nearly untouched. Truthfully most of the money belonged to Chris anyway and he wasn’t so vindictive that he would clean it out. Instead, he asked to have his name removed from the account and then asked the associate if she would be so kind to shred his card for him. The startled look on her face at his request would have made him laugh, that is if he could remember how. Instead, he gave her a wan smile and wondered vaguely how long it would take before the gossip made the rounds that the Argent heir’s fiance was removing himself from the picture.  

The girl had searched his face and gave a small nod of her head, carefully retrieving the card from his hand. Before her sat a man who looked exhausted as if he had fought his demons and they had won. The young lady was pretty familiar with demons, so when she had finished the requested task, she kept her mouth shut. Though he wouldn’t know it, his secrets would stay safe with her.

After the stop at the bank, Peter had headed to the airport and boarded the plane for his flight. He had checked his phone one last time, hurt burning in his chest to see no messages, before switching it off. Later, when he arrived at his destination, he would go to the nearest cellphone store and get himself a new one with a new number. There was no point in holding onto something that didn’t want to be held onto in the first place he had thought bitterly. He had touched down in New York, retrieved his bags from the carousel and flagged down a taxi. It had been the start of his new life and he’d been scared shitless.

 

~~~~~~

 

“Mr. Argent, there is a call on line three for you,” the crisp voice of his long time secretary says smoothly. With a nod of his head as thanks, the man walks into his office, shutting the door before seating himself behind his desk and retrieving the handset.  

It’s business per usual for the businessman. Multi-million dollar deals, contract negotiations, and other things that used to excite him and capture his attention are now just the status quo. He’s changed in the past two years, becoming more quiet and more ruthless in his dealings. People have guessed correctly that is has something to do with the absence of his former lover, but no one wishes to broach the subject. Once the furor had died down in the papers over the noticeable lack of Peter by his side, they instead began to focus back upon his business and his sudden increase in wealth and prestige from several lucrative international deals. Even though Peter had left, he was still helping Chris out. After all, when one is trying to run away from the mistakes they made, don’t they usually focus on something else. The laser sharp focus that once was fixated on a lover, is now solely for business, and the attention has paid off.

 

~~~~~~

 

“Why am I going to this again?” Peter mutters as his older sister straightens his tie for him.  

“Because you haven’t gone out yet since being back and you’re leaving again in two days. Also, this is a big deal for David and I’m nervous for him and you need to hold my hand so I don’t do something stupid to embarrass him,” Talia replies dryly.  

Peter chuckles at Talia’s antics and gives her a small smile. “As if you’ll be anything other than your usual calm and collected self,” he says fondly with a roll of his eyes.

Talia stops a moment, eyes staring into her younger brother’s intently before her own lips break into a soft smile. There it is she thinks to herself. It’s been too long since she’s seen that smile and the light in those eyes, and she’s _so so so_ desperate to keep it there. Peter’s sudden departure had left her reeling, along with the man telling her eventually what had happened between the couple. She had felt so sick at the thought of the suffering Peter was going through alone on the other side of the country, but she understood where he was coming from, why he had to leave before he lost his courage. So she had provided her love and strength through Skype, text messages, e-mails and the occasional weird postcard. They have avoided any mention of the other man, and Talia thinks that it is best to let sleeping dogs lie.

“There you go,” she says cheerfully, before lightly brushing off imaginary lint from Peter’s shoulders. “All spiffed up and ready to knock everyone on their asses!”

At this, Peter cracks up and gives a big belly laugh. “I doubt that very much, but thanks for the unwavering confidence you have in my personality,” he says while wiping moisture from the corners of his dancing eyes.

Talia gives him a quiet smile in return and then a hug. She means for it to be quick, a brief self indulgence, but instead her arms have locked up and she rests her chin on her brother’s shoulder.

“Tal?”

“Just give me a moment,” she whispers to Peter. “Let me just have this one thing, I’ve missed it so very much.”

Peter brings his arms around to return the hold, lightly starting to sway.

“I miss this too,” he says quietly, chin propped on her shoulder as tears prick the corners of his eyes again.

 

~~~~~~

 

Chris gives a twitch of his wrist to straighten out the cuff of his shirt sleeve before exiting the limo. He reaches back to assist his date from the back seat. Victoria is a friend/business associate who had heard about the show tonight and didn’t wish to go alone. As a concession to their business relationship and the newly undisclosed business deal between their two companies, he had agreed to escort her.  

“What is this show about?” Chris asks in a disinterested voice as they walk the carpet before photographers.

“Oh this brilliant artist is exhibiting his best pieces this one night only for charity. I’ve been dying to see him, but it’s difficult to get tickets to his shows,” she says airily. “When they came up for tonight I had to grab them,” she continues.

“Hmm...that’s nice,” Chris replies distantly, voice void of any emotion, no real interest in the actual answer given.  

Victoria swats a hand playfully at him in response, smirking a little as a show for the cameras.  

When they enter into the building and hand over their tickets, they are escorted further inside to the exhibit. Victoria gives a little smirk as she looks around. Partly because she’s on Chris’ arm and everyone is looking, and partly because she’s here about to meet her favorite artist.  

Chris slowly scans the room, nodding slightly to various people in his social circle who have come to check out the works. He pauses when his eyes connect to a familiar pair across the room that have widen in surprise. It’s Talia Hale, Peter’s older sister. He has seen the formidable woman only a handful of times in these past few years, somehow missing one another even though they live in the same town. The fiery brunette had stared him hard in the eyes, lips pressed tight before giving him a small nod and turning around to exit the room they had been in. He has not seen her since, until now. Victoria leans over and whispers close to his ear, “That’s the artist’s wife, Talia Hale. Supposedly someone close to them suggested holding this event while they were visiting. I wonder who that person is?”

It hits him like a punch to the gut at this question because he knows the answer. Talia has only one other person she’d listen to, her baby brother in fact, that she feels is worthy to come before her husband, and Chris knows this. Peter was a huge patron of the arts and had always spoken about how important it was for everyone to get to experience it, not just the rich socialites of their social circle. That means Peter is most likely here tonight. At this realization, Chris  unconsciously rubs his hand over his heart, unsure how he feels about this sudden revelation.  

 

Talia can only scoff quietly under her breath wondering at the odds that her brother’s ex-fiance would be here. She thought this was a sure bet of a Chris free evening. Art was not normally his thing, always more Peter’s interest. She eyes the woman speculatively and figures she must be the reason he is here. She recognizes the woman and knows who she is. Not only by her family’s reputation in the business world, but their influence in a particular social circle. Talia really hopes that this isn’t the one who helped break up Peter’s relationship, but she’s uncertain. Knowing the course fate has decided to take, she has a feeling luck is not on their side. She’s now regretting her involvement in persuading David to hold this exhibition and for Peter to even attend.

“Hey babe,” David’s deep voice speaks by her ear as a strong arm wraps around her waist. “Where’s Peter at?”

Talia takes a small sip of her drink, pausing to allow the rim to hide her lips from anyone who may look their way. “He’s further in the room, already looking at your darker pieces,” she mutters. “Look, I think I need to go and get him and take him home.”  As David starts to protest, the artist looks in the direction Talia is staring in and realizes why his wife is so eager to leave.

“How about I go over and greet them and keep them occupied. That should give you enough time to find Peter and ask him what he wants to do,” he offers softly.

Talia can only give a curt nod in agreement before dropping her now empty drink glass on a waiter’s tray as it passes by. She gives David a quick peck on the lips and says a soft thanks before melting into the crowd.  

With a sinking feeling, David notes how Chris’ eyes follow Talia, and he realizes the other man knows what is going on. Well better get to it, he thinks as he mentally prepares himself for whatever may happen later.

 

“Oh here he comes,” Victoria murmurs. People standing between the artist and the couple who know of Talia’s relationship with the two men, raise eyebrows and turn to discreetly watch what happens next. This is the first time that the notorious couple have been spotted in the same vicinity in two years and people are hungry to find out what happened and what will happen next.

 

Talia casually weaves herself through the crowd, easily sidestepping couples who are standing around admiring some of her husband’s pieces on display. When she makes it to the third section of the exhibit, she spots Peter. Not many people have made it this far into the show just yet so the area is relatively empty. Peter is standing before a massive piece suspended from the ceiling with cables. It’s meant as an interpretation of broken dreams and shattered promises and ironically it’s a piece that David said came to him after hearing about the demise of the local celebrity couple. Talia stands there behind him, a lonely figure made even more diminished from the immense size of the art. It’s meant to signify how emotions can overwhelm a person and make you feel like you’re drowning, that when you stand before it, all you can see is the anger, betrayal, bitterness; that it blocks out all the light and hope and love.

 _Was this what you felt when you found out the truth?  Is this a summary of your life for the past two years?_  

She draws up beside her brother, not saying a word, eyes still focused on the piece. They continue to stare together at it in silence.

“This is familiar,” Peter says wryly.  

Talia turns her head to stare at him, waiting to see if he will continue.

Peter doesn’t say anything more, instead he just has a small bitter smile on his face, eyes no longer focused, looking back into the past.

Talia turns to face forward again, unsure of what she should say next.

“Do you want to go?” she asks softly. “We can leave, I’ve already seen everything I wanted.”

Peter blinks back to the present, turning to stare at the side of Talia’s face, contemplating on whether he would like to stay or return to the comfort of his room. After a moment he shrugs his shoulders in indifference. “It doesn’t matter to me, although wouldn’t David be upset if we left soon?”

“Nah, I already spoke to him and he’s doing his rounds with all the guests. I’m pretty much useless at this point. Already scored my brownie points for the evening,” she jokes with a weak smile.

Peter stares at his sister, a feeling of disquiet poking at the back of his mind from her subdued behavior.

“Sure, we can leave. Why don’t we go say our goodbye’s and head out then. I actually have a friend of mine that wanted to meet up tonight, but I declined because of this event. I can check and see if Stiles still wants to meet up,” Peter says with a smile.

Talia raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Stiles? Is this the same Stiles from several months ago?”

Peter just shrugs his shoulders lightly and gives her another small smile.

“Maybe.”

Talia wants to drill him, but she’s aware of their time constraint to get out of there unnoticed. “Why don’t I find out where David is and we can meet up with him and then head out. I wouldn’t mind meeting this Stiles gentleman.”

Peter gives her an amused look and a does a soft little hum under his breath. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” he murmurs in return.

Talia pulls out her cell phone and shoots off a quick text telling David that they are leaving, but Peter wants to say his goodbyes. She makes sure to add in that she hasn’t told him about Chris being here and if there is a side exit they could use that would be great, thanks.

Peter has wandered off a few feet to look at another piece waiting for Talia to give him the word on where they should go. There’s a small beep from her phone and Talia is striding over to inform him that they’ll meet David one room back to say goodbye. Peter gives one last thoughtful look at the massive piece from earlier before turning around and walking away.

 

Unbeknownst to David, Chris and Victoria have decided to follow at a discreet distance. Chris, in hopes of seeing Peter again and Victoria out of sheer curiosity on who could be such an influential friend that David considered worthy enough to display his artwork for.

 

~~~~~~

 

The next day Peter opens the door to step out, head down and smiling at his cellphone in his hand. Stiles has just sent him an amusing text about his book signing today, and Peter laughs at the picture that accompanies it. He fails to notice the other man standing outside his door before he nearly walks into him.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you,” he apologizes before looking up and freezing, smile slowly fading from his face and eyes dimming when he recognizes his ex standing before him. Peter quickly pulls the door completely shut, double checking that it’s locked before taking one last glance at his phone screen. He flicks it off and slides it into his pants pocket, waiting to see if the other man will say anything. Peter’s not naive enough to think it’s a coincidence that Chris is here, so he decides to give the man a moment to say something. When the man continues to just stare at him, Peter gives an internal shrug, sends a curt nod to the other man and turns around to walk away. He makes it three steps away when he feels a hand wrap around his right bicep and a hoarse, “Please, wait,” spoken.

Peter freezes, resisting the urge to simultaneously rip his arm out of the other man’s hand and melt into his touch. Instead he takes a steadying breath before calmly saying, “I’m sorry, but I’m rather in a hurry. I have someone waiting for me. Can we do this another time?”

Chris loosens this grip on the man’s arm, hand slowly sliding down his arm before falling away. “Sorry,” he says in a quiet voice.  

Peter gives another small nod without turning around and walks away. It’s the third time in a row that Chris has watched that back walk away. He notes in a distant part of his mind that it hurts just as much as it did two years ago, just as much as it did last night at the art gallery.  

Chris continues to stand in the hallway, long after Peter has boarded the elevator and presented a blank face to him when he turns around to face the door. He continues to stand there after the elevator shows it has arrived at the ground floor, and he is still standing there until the phone vibrates in his pocket ten minutes later. Still in a daze he looks at the screen blankly before taking the call.

 

~~~~~~

  
Peter takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He realizes that he may need a few more, so he takes a couple of more, shaking out his arms and rotating his shoulders to try and loosen up his suddenly too tight muscles. His hand is shaking and his right arm feels like it has been branded from where Chris had caressed it, because that is what the man had done he thinks numbly. The reflection staring back at him looks haunted, eyes wide and skin pale. He tightens his hands into fists to try and stop the trembling. The elevator is still descending, and so he takes a moment to close his eyes and steady himself. He pinches his cheeks and slaps them lightly to put some color back into them. Not that it will fool Talia, but at least he’ll look less like he’s just seen a ghost from his past when he gets to the lobby.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles slowly starts to rouse from a cozy sleep. As he swims towards full consciousness, he feels Peter's arm where it lies heavy across the small of his back, pinning him to the mattress. The younger man smiles into his pillow. Carefully he starts to extract himself, except Peter's not cooperating with him. Each time Stiles attempts to wiggle free, his lover's hand reflexively tightens against his hip. Realizing he's not going to escape, Stiles turns his head, readjusting his body. Peter's face is relaxed, lips slightly parted in sleep. Stiles takes the time to gaze upon him, grinning at Peter’s epic bed head. There’s a morning scruff along his jaw and Stiles can't resist lightly running his hand along it. When he goes to pull away, Peter follows his hand.

What had originally started out with an offer from Lydia for Peter to join their business dinner almost one year ago ended up turning into casual coffee dates originally instigated by Stiles. Those dates eventually led to falling into each other's beds before progressing into weekends at one another’s apartments. Now they sleep with each other every night, ending up at whomever's apartment that works with their schedule the next day. Stiles had been the first to pursue Peter, but something happened six months ago when he went home to visit his sister back on the West Coast. Stiles had been nearby doing a book signing for the end of his tour when Peter had called him and asked to meet up. Little did he suspect he’d end up meeting the man’s older sister and her husband. When Peter returned back to New York, their occasional weekly dates turned into regular weekend sleepovers until eventually, it led them to spending every night tangled together.

Stiles isn’t too sure what happened and when he finally got up the nerve to ask, Peter had just shrugged his shoulders and said a cryptic, “perspective”. So Stiles dropped it and just decided to keep going along with whatever it was between the two of them.

“Hey,” Stiles says softly when he sees Peter start to crack his bright blue eyes open. Stiles lightly rubs his thumb across Peter’s bottom lip, a smile beginning when the man places a light kiss upon the pad.

“Hey,” the older man rasps out. “What are you doing?” he slurs out sleepily, blinking his eyes slowly as he tries to wake.

“Nothing,” Stiles responds, “or well, I was trying to go use the bathroom, but someone wouldn’t let me,” he teases the man softly.

“Hmm…” Peter says closing his eyes with a smile. “Imagine that. I wonder why they would do such a thing? Doesn’t sound very nice,” he sighs out with a tiny smirk, eyes falling shut against the morning light streaming through the curtains.

Stiles huffs out a small laugh, fingertips softly tracing along Peter’s jawline. “Yeah, imagine that,” he says before leaning forward a little and kissing the corner of his lover’s mouth gently, nuzzling his nose against the older man in their usual morning greeting.

Even with his eyes closed, Peter follows his mouth, sighing softly into the kiss, ignoring the stale taste of morning breath that coats both of their mouths. It’s a soft stroke of their tongues against each other, neither making a move to deepen the kiss nor pull away.

Stiles gives a soft gasp as he eventually breaks away, the pressure on his bladder combined with his growing erection too much discomfort. Peter reaches up to palm the back of his head, tugging the younger man down to reconnect their mouths. Stiles starts to fall into the kiss again when the ringing of Peter’s cell interrupts them. Stiles uses the opportunity to pull away again to make his escape to the bathroom.

Peter stretches out his body, a gruff groan escaping him before reaching over to his bedside table to swipe at his phone. When Stiles ducks into the attached bathroom he can hear Peter answering the call.

Stiles relieves himself and decides to go ahead and wash his face to try and wake up more. He does a quick wash and grabs his toothbrush, squirting on some toothpaste before he begins tackling his morning dental hygiene. After rinsing and spitting he grabs a towel to wipe off any stray drops of water from both himself and the sink before hanging the towel haphazardly back up and heading back out to Peter.

When Stiles steps out of the bathroom, he sees Peter sitting frozen on his side of the bed, back to Stiles. “Peter?” he questions the man, a prickling of unease running down his spine. The man has his cell clutched into a white-knuckled grip in his hand on the bed. Peter looks up and his eyes are damp and wide, distress and confusion writ across his face.

“Peter, what’s wrong?” Stiles demands in alarm.

Peter continues to stare up at him. He opens his mouth to speak, but only a faint clicking noise escapes from his throat. He closes his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath.

“There’s— there’s been an accident,” he chokes out.

Stiles looks at him wide-eyed, paling as he tries to figure out who it might be.

Peter opens his eyes, tears gathering in them. “Talia and David were in an accident this morning,” he continues numbly. “They were hit head-on, killed instantly,” he says bringing his hands up to wipe his eyes roughly. “I need to get my things and head to California,” he manages to force out, stumbling upright to look for his pants.

Stiles stares at him horrified. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he breathes out, hands held out in front of him, unsure of what do. “Wha— what about their kids?” he asks hesitantly, fearing the worst but hoping for the best.

Peter freezes, turning in a circle as he grips his hair in his hands. “I— That’s why I need to go,” he says. “I’m their guardian and they need me.” He looks at Stiles in desperation.

“Okay, okay yeah that makes sense,” Stiles says with a jolt, reaching out to touch Peter. “Here, Peter, do you need to call the airline?” he asks, gripping the man’s bicep in a quick squeeze before letting go to make his way over to his closet where he grabs some of Peter’s spare clothes that he keeps over. He snags a suitcase and quickly unzips it, stuffing the clothes in. He walks over to his dresser and grabs some socks and underwear. He turns back around to snag some undershirts to add to the pile.

Stiles feels sick to his stomach and the look of confusion and shock on Peter’s face is alarming. He stops in front of the man and wraps him in his arms tightly, placing a kiss on the man’s neck before pulling back to look him in the eyes. “Hey, hey, look at me, Peter. Please, just look at me,” he coaxes.

Peter stares at him blankly, mind faintly registering Stiles’ request.

“Tell me what you need. I’ll pack your bag, but is there anything else you need me to do? I can find you a flight and take you to the airport okay,” he says as he holds Peter’s head in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you and I’m going to help you out with anything you need okay.”

Peter nods his head in a jerky motion. “I— I need to book a flight. The sooner the better,” he stumbles over his words, head feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton.

“Alright, let me finish grabbing some toiletries for you and then we’ll head to the kitchen. I can make you some breakfast and we can look for a flight,” Stiles says, leaning in to give the man a gentle kiss.

 

~~~~~

 

Peter flies out to California that afternoon. He’s not sure what has happened between getting the phone call and now standing blankly at the rotating carousel at baggage claim. When he tries to remember anything, all he gets are flashes of Stiles and bits and pieces of the man’s voice. ‘I love you’ being repeated over and over floats around his foggy mind. The beeping of his cell phone rouses him from his dazed state and when he checks it, it’s Stiles’ name lighting up the screen.

“Stiles,” he rasps out, hand pressing the phone tight to his ear.

“Peter? Hey, where are you?” Stiles' voice asks worriedly over the line.

“I’m at baggage claim, waiting for my luggage,” he says quietly.

“Alright, how was your flight?” Stiles asks after a moment of silence.

“Fine,” Peter answers bluntly. Peter sighs out tiredly and rubs his forehead in the ensuing silence, jaw tightening as he thinks about how rudely he has just responded. “Sorry,” he mutters out.

“Right, umm...I’ve arranged for a driver to pick you up,” Stiles says hesitantly. “I figured it would just be easier than grabbing a cab or renting a car,” he continues.

“Oh,” Peter says swallowing, watching as the carousel begins bringing the luggage around to the passengers. His throat tightens up with emotion, “Thank you,” he says quietly into the phone.

“No problem,” Stiles says back to him. “Let me know if you need anything else okay,” he insists before falling back into silence.

Peter stands there and listens to the man breathe from over in New York.

 

~~~~~

 

The funeral is larger than Peter was expecting. He knew his sister and brother-in-law were well respected and loved in the community, but it’s a little overwhelming with just how much. Stiles had flown in and has been helping out with the kids while keeping Peter together. When Peter looks back everything is like flashes of time, bits and pieces, snapshots of confusion and grief.

Baby Cora, too young to know where her mommy and daddy are, staring at the door hopefully whenever someone comes knocking to drop off another casserole dish. Stoic little Derek, staring up with tear filled green eyes and little bunny teeth too big for his mouth, quietly following Peter wherever he goes like a persistent shadow. Laura, angry Laura, lashing out in hurt and confusion between bouts of jagged crying. Peter’s so lost on what to do and when Stiles showed up for the funeral, he is so grateful, clinging to the man in desperation himself.

 

~~~~~

 

Stiles moves around the kitchen, gathering the necessary ingredients to make pancakes for everyone. The funeral was yesterday and everyone is emotionally raw. Peter’s meeting with the lawyers again today to go through with the legalities of Dave and Talia’s estate, but the meeting isn’t until 10 and it’s still only 7:30 right now. Stiles figures the man needs more sleep than he needs pancakes.

When the baby monitor crackles to life on the kitchen island, Stiles quickly wipes his hands before heading upstairs to grab Cora before she wakes anyone else. When he enters the nursery he finds Derek and Laura already solemnly waiting for him. Cora is babbling in the crib behind them, making gurgling noises and grabby hands.

“Hey guys,” Stiles greets them warmly, walking up to grab Cora out of the crib and change her diaper. Derek just shuffles behind Laura, peeking around her shoulder to watch Stiles. Laura just fists her hand by her sides and glares at the man.

“I just got out all the ingredients to make pancakes, you’re more than welcome to join me. Or I can just find you when they’re ready,” he suggests as he picks Cora up and places her on his hip. She bites his shoulder and he winces as her little teeth digs in.

Derek and Laura eye him warily and Derek nods his head a little, leaning forward to whisper at Laura. Stiles gives them a tired smile and heads downstairs. If the kids want to come they come, if not, it won’t hurt him any to hunt them down later he thinks as Cora smacks him in the cheek with a drool covered fist.

  
  


“Hey Peter,” Stiles murmurs as he runs his hand lightly against the sleeping man’s jaw. There’s a barely perceptible change in the man’s breathing to signal his rise to consciousness as he nuzzles into Stiles’ hand. Red rimmed eyes crack open and stare tiredly up at him.

“It wasn’t a dream?” he rasps out as he stares into Stiles warm eyes.

A flicker of emotion passes through the younger man’s eyes before his face softens into sorrow. “No,” he says quietly, “not a dream.”

Peter shuts his eyes tight for a moment against the prick of tears. When he thinks he has a handle on his emotions he opens his eyes again to find Stiles carefully watching him. Peter tugs Stiles down onto him, wanting to hide away for a little while even though it’s a luxury he probably shouldn’t take at the moment. Not with three kids now depending on him and his sister’s whole life to go through and sort out later with the lawyers. He buries his face in Stiles’ neck, drawing in deep breaths of the man’s scent and...something else. Peter wrinkles his nose and pulls back his head, looking at Stiles questioningly.

“You smell funny,” he says quietly.

A small smile quirks Stiles’ face. “Cora,” he explains quietly. “You might want to avoid my left side. She likes to smear drool and whatever else she can manage on me. Bites too,” he says with a grimace. “Who knew babies could be so vicious?”

Peter stares at him wonderingly, hand rising up to caress Stiles’ face, fingertips lightly tracing over his eyebrow, cheekbone, the top of his nose to his mouth. Stiles kisses the fingertips lightly when they touch his lips, staring back into Peter’s eyes. “How did I get so lucky with you?” Peter marvels.

Stiles gives him a shy smile, eyes soft. “I told you, I wasn’t going anywhere,” he says quietly.

 

~~~~~

 

Peter’s exhausted after meeting with the lawyers. Apparently with the kids he also inherits everything else including the responsibilities that comes with the kids, family trusts from his own parents and everything Talia and David had set aside for them as well. He’s thankful for the trust and that Talia and David were so on top of everything in regards to what happens with the kids should this situation ever occur. Financially everything is all set for the kids, but emotionally, emotionally he’s not sure. He doesn’t know the first thing about raising children, only seeing the kids once or twice a year. Skype calls don’t count no matter how much he wishes they did. He’s too numb to think about the future, even though he knows he needs too. Sitting with the lawyers and signing paper after paper he’s realized he can’t just pick up the kids and haul them to the East coast. They’ve already lost their family, they can’t lose their home too. He shoves that train of thought to the back of his mind. That way lies madness right now and he’s not ready to admit just how much more this is having an impact on his life, _on his life with Stiles._

  
  


When he pulls up into the driveway, he sits there in David’s truck and stares out at the house. It’s dusk and the crickets are chirping loudly, other insects joining in the symphony of summer. He thinks back to his last visit six months ago around the holidays. When he had been in to see David’s art show and had subsequently run into Chris again. How when he left Beacon Hills it was with a promise to both himself and to Talia that his next visit he’d have Stiles with him as his boyfriend, not as a semi-casual hookup who was in the same area at the same time he thinks bitterly. He knocks his head back against the headrest. He can see movement through the windows, most likely Laura or Derek. Maybe even Stiles, he thinks dully.

Peter scrubs at his face roughly before pulling the key out of the ignition. He gathers all the files of paperwork from the attorneys and climbs out of the cab. He’s going to have to talk to Stiles about their future. He can’t leave Beacon Hills, can’t uproot the kids and take the rest of everything they already know and love away from them. He’s an editor with a trust fund. There’s no real unselfish reason for him not to stay in New York. His apartment is nice and perfect for a bachelor or in this case for a man with a boyfriend who sleeps over regularly. It’s not big enough to comfortably fit a family of five permanently though. Peter swallows hard and stumbles midway up the steps. He sits down heavily at the top, dropping the folders before all the papers fall out. He puts his head in his hands and stares at the step between his feet feeling exhausted.

The sound of the screen door opening behind him makes him tense up before a set of black Nike sneakers come into view. It’s Derek, and the boy sits down quietly next to him and carefully leans against his side. Peter straightens up and when he looks, Derek is clutching the stuffed wolf that Stiles had brought to comfort the boy. The kid is staring straight ahead into the woods that edges the lawn. Peter sighs and wraps his arm around his nephew, pulling him in tightly. Derek stays stiff for a moment before slowly sinking into his hold, little shoulders starting to shake. Peter kisses him on his hair before putting his head on top of Derek’s. They sit there until the sun goes down.

  
  


Dinner is a quiet awkward affair only punctuated by shrieks from Cora and her banging against the table. Her and Stiles are both covered in carrots and there’s even a bit of pureed squash smeared along his boyfriend’s ear somehow. Laura is looking at her baby sister and her uncle’s boyfriend like they’re crazy. Derek looks confused and a little constipated. He obviously wants to laugh at the sight, but panics and tries to stop each time he catches himself. Peter would laugh at the boy if it wasn’t so sad that it makes his heart hurt.

“Well,” sighs Stiles as he places the spoon down and reaches absentmindedly for an already filthy rag to wipe himself off a bit, “I think we’re through for the night.”

Peter watches him try to clean off a spot on his cheek, only to smear more food onto himself.

“What? Did I miss it?” he asks when he sees Peter cautiously look at him while scratching his eyebrow. Stiles reaches up to try again.

Peter purses his lips and taps his own cheek. “Uh, you got a little…” he gestures to the area.

Stiles swipes again and now there’s more food left behind streaking up into his hairline.

“Did I get it?” he asks before looking down at the rag and noticing just how gross it is. “Let me guess,” he says with a sigh of defeat, “I just made it worse didn’t I?”

Peter raises his hand, fingers held a little apart. “Just a teensy bit,” he says as Cora raises her arms above her head and squeals loudly.

A muffled snort comes from across the table and when the two men look over, Derek is fiercely staring at his plate as if trying to will it into submission or something. Laura is poking at her dinner while biting her lip, but Peter thinks he sees a hint of a smile.

“How about I take care of Cora, while you go and clean yourself up,” Peter suggests, turning back to look at Cora and Stiles. “Derek, Laura, I need you to please help with the dishes,” he instructs the two older kids. Derek meekly nods his head while Laura scowls back at him.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, reaching over to give Peter a kiss before jerking to a halt. He licks his lips and frowns at the taste of squash. “I’m going to...go now,” he says, catching himself before he runs his hand through his hair. He mutters a curse under his breath. More loudly he says while starting up the stairs, “I won’t be long if you want to wait a couple of minutes for me to help with Cora.”

  
  


When Stiles finishes his shower, he finds Peter in the main bathroom more wet than dry while trying to keep a hold of a squirming Cora. She manages to escape her uncle’s grasp and Stiles intercepts her at the door.

“For a crawler, she sure moves fast,” Stiles says with amusement at his boyfriend, placing the naked baby on his hip.

Peter falls back against the tub in defeat. “I don’t know how Talia did this? And three times over at that,” he says rubbing his head tiredly.

“Well how about you take your turn getting clean and I’ll take little Miss. Chomper here downstairs to fix her bottle,” Stiles suggests, making faces at Cora. The little girl squeals back at him, mouth open wide and Stiles pulls her away just in time to avoid being bit.

“Nope,” the man says, “you thought you had me didn’t you, little monster,” he teases the girl. “But see, uncle Stiles is on to your nefarious ways,” he continues while holding her in front of his body. “No, you can’t ever say I don’t learn…” his voice fades away in horror when Cora starts peeing on him. He looks down at his now soaking wet shirt and back up to the baby, mouth hanging open.

The room goes silent, and Peter, Peter loses it. He laughs so hard tears come to his eyes and he falls over onto the wet bath mat, slapping the floor as he howls. “What— is it— you— were saying— about— learning?” he gasps out between chortles.

Stiles closes his mouth.

“Here,” he says flatly handing the dangling baby back to Peter. “I need a shower.” He makes sure Peter has a grasp on her before turning around and going back to their bedroom, shirt pulled away from his body and nose wrinkled in disgust.

Peter sits back up and places Cora in his lap. “Ah...baby girl, you just may be my favorite yet,” he says, laughter finally dying down as he wipes the corners of his eyes. He looks at his youngest niece and she grins back at him, little hands smacking against his chest. “Thanks for that, I needed something to laugh about,” he says quietly. “Now we just need to get the rest of the family there someday.”

 

Later that night, Peter rouses from a deep sleep, unsure of what has woken him. It’s still the middle of the night from the looks of the darkness outside the window. Stiles is breathing slow and steady next to him and the baby monitor is silent. Peter lies there and stares up at the ceiling waiting to see if whatever woke him will happen again. Nothing sounds in the night and he rolls over on his side to look at Stiles.

The man is on his back, lips slightly parted, small puffs of air escaping with each quiet exhale. Peter traces his eyes over Stiles’ face, the night too dark to make out the moles that decorate his cheeks. He thinks about how he’s going to bring up moving here to Beacon Hills permanently. What it means for their relationship. If Stiles would be willing to do long distance. If _he’s_ willing to do long distance. He wonders if Stiles really means he’s not going anywhere and would it also include maybe moving here someday. Maybe being a family with Peter and Laura and Derek and Cora. There’s a flutter in Peter’s stomach at this thought. Of Stiles coming here permanently. Stiles is a writer. He’s always joked that all he needs is something to write with, whether paper or pen or laptop or phone. Hell, for his last book he used napkins at their favorite coffee shop and the eyeliner pencil of the barista. Peter smiles to himself at the memory.

Stiles frowns in his sleep, lips smacking lightly. He sighs out and rolls towards Peter, only stopping when he encounters Peter’s body. The younger man doesn’t rouse, so used to sharing a bed. Instead he cuddles closer, nuzzling his face forward into Peter’s pillow. Peter closes the space between them to place a soft kiss on Stiles’ forehead. Another sigh follows and Peter settles back into the bed, watching his lover sleep as he thinks about the potential in their futures.

 

~~~~~

 

It’s day five after the funeral and Stiles is rounding the kids up to take them to the library. Peter sits at the kitchen island and sips his coffee, watching as the younger man packs some snacks into Cora’s diaper bag.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Peter asks, lightly tapping his finger against the counter top.

Stiles rummages around inside the bag, counting the diapers and double checking that the wipes are there.

“Umm...maybe pre-measure out some formula for me,” he suggests with a glance up at Peter, shoving his glasses back up his nose.

“Sure,” Peter agrees, taking the portable formula container from Stiles hand. He carefully measures out enough for three bottles, even though he’s sure that much isn’t needed. They’re only going to the library, maybe the grocery store later after stopping at the park.

“Can you grab me some water bottles too?” Stiles asks distractedly turning to grab some cheese sticks from the fridge for the older two before stumbling to a halt when he nearly plows Derek over. The younger boy is standing there clutching the stuffed wolf to his chest, a canvas bag with the word ‘books’ embroidered on the outside.

“Hey buddy, I’m going to put a bell on you,” Stiles says lightly as he ruffles the kid’s hair. Derek just stares up at him wide-eyed, tightening his hold on the stuffed wolf.

“Do you have a library card?” he says when the boy doesn’t say anything. Derek quietly shakes his head in the affirmative.

“Excellent!” Stiles enthuses. “Let me just finish grabbing some snacks for us later and we’ll be good to go,” he continues with a friendly smile.

Derek shuffles his way over to stand next to Peter and Peter pats him on his shoulder.

“Peter, can you go check in on Cora? Maybe see if she needs her diaper changed, please? Oh, and grab another change of clothes too,” he calls over his shoulder as Peter leaves the kitchen to look for his nieces.

Peter finds the two girls out on the screened in porch. Laura is helping Cora stack blocks before the little girl knocks them down with a squeal. Laura patiently stacks the blocks back up to repeat the process all over again.

Peter knocks lightly against the door frame and Cora shrieks in delight, arms waving wildly in the air. Laura looks over her shoulder at her uncle.

“I’ve come to steal your baby sister away for a diaper check,” he says dryly. “Stiles has almost everything packed. If there’s any snack requests, I suggest you make them now before he leaves the kitchen.”

Laura looks at him and shrugs in disinterest. She turns back to the blocks silently. Peter figures that’s probably all he’ll get out of his oldest niece, so he walks over to pick up the baby. Cora gives out another piercing shriek before clamping down on Peter’s shoulder. The man grunts at the pain and tries to pry her off of him. This is how Stiles finds them and he snorts out a laugh at the sight of the older man grimacing under the chomp of Cora’s strangely strong jaws.

“Alright, Derek and I have everything loaded up,” he announces. “Laura, do you have your library bag?” he asks the older girl.

She gives a sigh and makes her way around them presumably to go grab her bag. Stiles shrugs at Peter’s frown.

“She’ll get there,” Stiles reassures the man. “It just takes time. Here, why don’t I take Miss. Chomper here off your hands,” he offers as he reaches to help pry Cora off the man’s shoulder.

Peter sighs in relief as Stiles manages to detach the baby, rubbing his sore shoulder with a grimace. Stiles holds Cora facing away from his body for safety reasons and smirks when Peter raises his brows in question. Stiles leans over and smacks a kiss on Peter’s cheek. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…” he teases before giving the man a wink and turning to head outside.

Peter just shakes his head with fondness before following him out.

 

~~~~~

 

The library goes...okay. Derek picks out some books and Laura sullenly finds a few to bring home. Stiles snags a couple for Cora and has to have Derek check them out when he realizes he doesn’t have his own card and can’t open one since he’s not a resident. People offer their condolences and the kids hide behind Peter. Well except Cora. Cora just shrieks at everyone. Peter’s pretty sure earplugs are going to be a staple in their lives soon.

The playground goes a little better, until a little snot nose shit picks a fight with Derek and Laura intervenes. Stiles is ready to throw down and Peter is actually the reasonable one. When the other kid’s mom recognizes Peter, she apologizes profusely and offers her condolences before smacking her kid upside the head and forcing him to do the same. Stiles is still fuming as they make their way to the car and Peter is pretty positive this is the moment Laura warms up to  Stiles. Their identical scowls and muttering about bullies and what they’d do if left alone for just two minutes with the kid leaves Derek gaping in wonderment trailing after Stiles like a little puppy. Peter’s heart clenches at the sight.  
  


 

That night Peter and Stiles have the dreaded talk, well sort of. Peter feels sick to his stomach and Stiles looks at him curiously. The kids are all tucked away, bedtime stories read and stuffed animals held tightly in little arms as they fall asleep. Stiles quietly wipes down the counters under the low kitchen lights sneaking glances at his boyfriend as Peter sits at the island nervously tapping his fingers against the granite top.

Peter clears his throat to speak and can’t. He swallows hard and when that is difficult too, he gets up to grab a glass of water. His hand is shaking a bit and he gulps down the drink quickly, refilling it after. He stands in front of the sink and blankly stares out the window into the darkness.

“Peter?” Stiles asks hesitantly from behind. “What’s wrong?”

Peter takes a deep breath and then another before turning around, fingers white from the pressure of how hard he’s grasping his drink. He leans against the counter, pressing hard to ground himself.

“I— I’m not moving back to New York,” he blurts out in a rush, staring at Stiles in misery.

Stiles looks at him and doesn’t say anything, waiting to see if the man will say more. When all that follows is a tense silence and Peter staring at him with a look of guilt he approaches the man cautiously.

“Okay…” he says raising his arms slowly to cup Peter’s elbows. He looks into his boyfriend’s eyes. “Is there anything else you want to add to that?” he suggests helpfully. Like maybe an invitation to stay he thinks to himself hopefully.

Peter stares back at Stiles. “I can’t move back to New York. I need to stay here, it’s what’s best for the kids,” he says. He opens his mouth to say more, but he doesn’t know what. He doesn’t know how to broach their relationship. He doesn’t know how to ask, no beg, Stiles to stay by his side. Usually there’s no problem with communicating with Stiles, but seeing this afternoon how the kids are starting to warm up to Stiles and thinking of a future with a limited if not absent Stiles has the usually confident man uneasy and tongue tied.

Stiles runs his hands up Peter’s biceps before reaching and gently prying the water glass out of the man’s hands. He sets it aside on the counter and returns to stand back in front of Peter. “Do you want a hug?” he asks, and Peter stares at him bewildered.

“Do I— what?” he asks in confusion.

“A hug. Do you want a hug?” Stiles repeats with eyebrows raised, arms open and waiting.

Peter nods mutely and Stiles steps forward and slots their bodies together, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Peter drops his head and buries his face into Stiles’ neck, trying to blink away his sudden tears.

After a minute or two Stiles loosens his grip and begins to pull back. Peter tightens his hold, clutching two handfuls of Stiles’ shirt in his hands, suddenly scared to let go. He takes a deep breath, pressing harder into Stiles.

“Don’t go,” he whispers hoarsely, unsure if he’s asking about at that moment, in his life or both.

Stiles lets out a quiet little hum. “Okay, I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere.”  
  


 

Later, they fall into bed and into each other wordlessly. There’s a tremble in Peter’s touch when he skims his fingers down Stiles’ body, a desperation in his kiss that’s usually only present when they’ve been apart for more than a few days. Stiles lays back as Peter mouths his way down his chest, grip a little too tight where he clutches at Stiles’ hips.

Peter is desperate to leave his mark on Stiles, to make the man not forget him. He sucks hickey’s down pale thighs and nips at jutting hips. He rubs his face against his chest and presses his fingers tight against his ribs. Stiles just gasps with each sensation, pliant beneath the older man’s ministrations.  

When Peter finally enters him, he has a fist full of Stiles hair to hold him in place. A tiny whimper escapes the younger man as Peter drives into him. It’s sharp and wild, borderline almost too much, but Stiles tightens his legs around Peter’s hips and presses his heels into the back of Peter’s thighs to drag him deeper.

They don’t speak, and Peter just continues to drive into him with harsh thrusts. Stiles fists the sheets to anchor himself, tilting his hips as much as Peter will allow him. The older man stays close, keeping their bodies pressed tightly together as he grinds down chasing his relief. When he feels his body coil tightly with his impending orgasm, he buries his face in Stiles neck, biting down into the meaty part that connects to his shoulder. His release is intense and he gives himself a moment to recover before pulling out and moving down Stiles’ body.

The young man’s cock is flushed red and his balls are drawn up tight. A cooling strand of come connects to his stomach and Peter doesn’t hesitate to swipe at it with his tongue. As he goes to swallow Stiles down, Peter takes two of his fingers and slides them into Stiles, aiming straight for his prostate. A firm press against the sensitive spot combined with a strong suck has the younger man bowing up off the bed and curling around his head with a choked gasp. Peter continues on until Stiles spills down his throat and whimpers from over sensitivity, hands feebly pushing against Peter’s head. Peter carefully withdraws his fingers and pulls off of Stiles’ cock, breathing heavily. He tilts his head up and they connect for a messy kiss before Peter is pressing Stiles back into the bed.

 

~~~~~

  
Stiles flies back to New York by himself two days later on Tuesday morning, and Peter wonders how he’s going to keep everything from falling apart.


	3. Chapter 3

 

* * *

 

When Stiles touches down at JFK, he heads straight towards the exits to snag a cab. The lack of checked luggage is a godsend for the man as he weaves his way through the crowd. He finds a cab quickly and as he’s getting comfortable in the back, he tells the driver his address while pulling out his cell. Peter’s already called and texted him and Stiles smiles in amusement as he checks the messages left. Apparently, there’s some kind of animal getting into the garbage (monster! shouts Laura in the background) and Cora has managed to bite Peter no less than three times today. Stiles huffs out a laugh at this, making sure to hit save on his voicemail when it finishes.

After Stiles makes it inside his place and deposits his bag in his bedroom he goes to check the state of his fridge. There's not much in there and what he left behind is headed towards science experiment territory. He stands there and contemplates ordering out or hitting up the grocery store. The vibrations of his phone rouse him and he hurries over to check who's calling.

“Hey,” Stiles answers. “I just got home, how's it going?”

“Fine,” Peter's tired voice says over the line. “Why didn't I come back with you?” he asks mournfully.

Stiles laughs at him. “Because there's still things you need to handle with the lawyers before you can come out,” he reminds the man.

“Ugh,” the older man groans. “Don't remind me. I have another meeting tomorrow. Hopefully, we can wrap everything up soon and the kids and I can fly out.”

“Sounds good. I figure I'll go over to your place tomorrow and make sure everything is okay. Probably clean out your fridge. Mine is...not too great,” he admits ruefully.

Peter laughs at this. “Mine definitely won't be any better. Sorry,” he apologizes, secretly happy it's not him having to deal with the food.

“Hey. Why do you sound so weird?” Stiles asks. “It's all echoey sounding from your end of the line,” he explains.

“Ah...I'm kind of... hiding in the bathroom,” he admits sheepishly.

Stiles pulls the phone away and looks at the screen before putting it back to his ear. “You're hiding in the bathroom? Isn't that a little early? I thought that only happens with toddlers.”

Peter hums back at him, “Not quite.” In a lower voice, he explains, “It happens with little shadows too.”

“Ahh...gotcha. Fair enough,” Stiles concedes. “Good tactics for the future I guess,” he teases.

Peter chuckles, “Indeed it is,” he agrees.

“So what's this about some monster getting into the garbage? Stiles asks as he sits down on his couch and props his feet up, and Peter proceeds to tell him about some strange animal that looks like a cross between a small bear and a cat that’s been digging in the garbage cans and strewing everything across the lawn.

Stiles snuggles further into the couch and laughs at Peter’s story, missing the man more than he ever thought he could.

 

~~~~~

 

“Hey Lydia,” Stiles says as he knocks lightly against the door frame of his editor’s office.

The redhead looks up from where she’s jotting down a note and holds a finger up in the universal signal of one moment. When she ends her call she peers up at her favorite author with raised brows. “What do you want, Stilinski?” she asks dryly.

“What? Can’t an author visit their favorite editor?” he asks innocently.

Lydia snorts in response. “Maybe in another office with another editor and another author. You though? No,” she says with a sniff.

Stiles walks in with a laugh, closing the door behind him at her signal to shut it. He plops himself down in one of her very fashionable and amazingly uncomfortable chairs. (It discourages lingering she always tells him, even though he seems to have a high tolerance.)

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Stilinski?” she asks as she tidies her desk up.

“Well I’m coming to let you know I’m relocating,” he says with a shrug.

Lydia raises her brow at this news. “And what brought this about?” she asks with pursed lips.

Stiles smiles back at her. “I found something worth holding onto,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs.

Lydia studies the young man and he calmly looks back at her. “Well okay then,” she says with a shrug. “Give me your forwarding address and another 12,000 words by the end of the month.”

Stiles laughs at her, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah I can probably do that,” he agrees.

“Good,” she says crisply before picking up her ringing cell to check who is calling. She swipes it to voicemail before looking back up. “I’m glad you realized it,” she says seriously. “You’re good for each other,” she tells the man. “I think you’ll be happy and we both know a happy Stiles makes a productive Stiles,” she tacks on with a smirk.

Stiles throws his head back in a laugh. “Eye always on the ball, Martin.”

She gives him a smug look before standing up with her purse in hand. “Take me to lunch,” she demands. “You can tell me all about your new little family.”

Stiles blinks at her in surprise, mouth falling open a little.

“What? Was it supposed to be a secret?” she asks with a raised brow. “I did send flowers to the funeral, Stiles,” she says with a sniff.

“Come on, I’m thinking Greek.” She walks past Stiles and opens her door before turning back around. “Well are you coming?” she demands.

Stiles flails getting out of the chair, knocking his hip against the desk. Lydia just rolls her eyes at him, and he grins back awkwardly, rubbing sheepishly against the sore spot as he joins her.

 

~~~~~

 

Peter holds Cora on his hip as he struggles with the diaper bag along with Derek and Laura’s library bags. There are too many straps everywhere and the squirming baby is making everything worse. He’s already lost his sunglasses to Cora’s grip and his coffee is a splattered mess on the sidewalk, the backsplash decorating the hem of his pants and the tops of his shoes. This, of course, is when fate decides to be a bitch as Chris pulls up to the curb.

“Of course,” Peter mutters grimly to himself when the man rolls down his window to ask if he needs help.

“Thanks, I’m good,” he says through gritted teeth when Cora narrowly misses stabbing him in the eye.

Chris eyes him speculatively, wincing when the baby Peter’s holding chomps down on his shoulder and the man gives an abortive shout of surprise. He gets out of his car and hurries over to Peter.

“Here, let me help,” he offers, reaching out to untangle Peter from the bags. It takes a moment because somehow the strap has twisted itself and is caught in the canvas bags next to it. Chris is very confused and Peter flinching at his accidental touches while trying to keep a grip on the baby is making it difficult to remove. He finally manages to separate the bags from Peter, taking a moment to straighten everything out. When he’s finished, he swoops down and picks up the discarded coffee cup and lid and tosses it into the nearby garbage can.

“Thanks,” Peter mutters, tucking his sunglasses into his pants pocket away from where Cora can grab them again. He fishes out his van keys, the main reason he became entangled, to begin with, and clicks the unlock button. “I can take those back,” he says, reaching out to take the bags out of Chris’ hand.

“I can put them in the van for you,” the man offers, “I mean if that was what you were going to do,” he adds awkwardly.

Peter eyes him warily. “Yeah, fine, you can do that,” he admits grudgingly, following the man to Talia’s van. He hits the tailgate lift button and the door opens.

“Umm…” Chris looks at the trunk, unsure where to set the bags down. There are two strollers shoved in the back, along with some toys and bags of groceries. A blanket is tossed haphazardly in a wad and it looks like a bag of Chex Mix has exploded.

Peter smiles at the man stiffly when Chris turns around to ask where he wants them. Since Stiles returned to New York, Peter’s...struggled a little.

“You can just set the bags over there,” Peter gestures to a less messy spot. “I need to grab a stroller out anyways for Cora,” he says through his teeth.

“Uh, which one? I can get it out for you,” Chris offers, setting the bags down in the designated spot before reaching into the van, hands hovering unsurely on which one Peter needs.

Peter purses his lips. “The umbrella, please,” he requests curtly.

At Chris’ confused look, he rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath. “The smaller one, please,” he instructs, pointing to the bright orange canvas.

Chris shakes his head and reaches forward for the stroller, tugging it loose from the pile. When he pulls it out, he fumbles with it for a moment before figuring out how it opens.

“There’s a latch on the back that needs to be locked into place,” Peter instructs Chris as he jiggles Cora on his hip. The man finds it and snaps it down into place, straightening up and holding out his hands instinctively to take the baby.

Peter just frowns. “Thanks, but I’ve got it,” he says dismissively. He tugs Cora loose from his shoulder and sets her down in the stroller, grabbing flailing arms and gently guiding them through the straps before securing her snugly. The little girl gurgles and claps her hands, trying to pull Peter’s hand up to her mouth. Peter carefully tugs his hands-free from her grasp and straightens up. When he looks up he sees Chris watching him, a pained look in his eyes.

Peter ignores his ex and reaches for the diaper bag to snag a sippy cup and a snack. He fishes out Cora’s kitten sunhat and a tube of sunscreen to reapply to the little girl’s skin. Peter resolutely continues to ignore Chris’ presence, uncomfortable with the look he had spotted on the man’s face. After Cora is all slathered up, he tosses the lotion back into the trunk and straps the hat onto her head before shoving the cup in her hands.

“You’re good at this,” Chris says quietly and Peter glances at him.

“Yes, well I didn't have much choice now did I?” he says tersely, looking away.

“I'm sorry again...about Talia and David...” Chris swallows dryly. “And I'm sorry for what I did all those years ago,” he finishes ashamedly.

Peter looks at him incredulously. “Here? Now? Seriously?”

Chris shakes his head. “I know, horrible timing,” he says with a wince, “but I wasn't sure…” he trails off before rallying again. “I wasn't sure if I'd see you again. If you were going to go back. So I thought I'd try while I knew I still had a chance,” he explains guiltily, hunching his shoulders as he stuffs his hands into his pockets in an attempt to keep himself from reaching out to the man.

Peter stares back at him while Cora kicks her leg against his. “Well you've said your apologies,” he says coolly. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to Derek and Laura.”

He steps behind the stroller and pulls it back far enough so the gate can lower. “Thanks for your help,” he adds with a sharp nod before wheeling around and striding away.

Chris stands there and watches Peter walk towards the playground where Derek and Laura are running around. He scruffs the back of his head in frustration at himself before walking back to his car, stomach tied up in knots and heart clenching in pain.

  
  


When Peter arrives back at the house with the kids, it’s to find the weird bear/cat beast lounging on their porch swing. As everyone piles out of the van with various bags and toys, Peter hitches Cora higher on his hip while warily eyeing the animal eyeing them back.

“What do you think it is?” Derek asks wide-eyed and curious.

“It’s a beast,” Laura says stoutly. “The beast of Beacon Hills.”

Peter snorts at this declaration and the beast opens its mouth into a large yawn, sharp white fangs flashing at them.

Derek perks up in interest. “Can we keep it?” he asks hopefully and Peter does a double take at the boy.

“Can we— What? No, we can’t keep it,” Peter protests. “What are you? Nuts?” he demands of his nephew and Derek ducks his head down with a fierce scowl. “Kid, I’m pretty sure that thing would eat you. Or at least give you a disease or something,” Peter mutters under his breath as he cautiously edges over to the front door to unlock it.

Laura snorts at this and smirks at her younger brother who scowls even harder at her. The boy mutters something under his breath and hunches his shoulders when he catches his uncle looking at him.

“Come on kids, let’s go inside. I need to set your sister down and we need to get the groceries out of the car,” Peter instructs them.

“Yeah, that ice cream should probably be in the freezer,” Laura snarks back as she disappears into the house.

At this Peter stops abruptly inside the front foyer with a muttered curse. He stands there and looks up at the ceiling. “Right, the fucking ice cream,” he says with a resigned sigh.

  


It only takes Peter forty-five minutes to get Cora down for bed that night. Mentally Peter pats himself on his back. It’s not Stiles’ thirty, but it sure beats his sixty-five he was averaging that first week alone with the kids. He stops by Derek’s room and stands in the doorway.

“Alright, kiddo, lights out,” he instructs his nephew.

Derek nods his head and shuts his book, lying it next to his bed on the nightstand. “Uncle Peter, is Stiles coming back?” the young boy asks quietly.

Peter smiles at his nephew. “Yeah, kiddo, he’ll be back. He had to go home and take care of some things. We’re going to fly out there to see him just as soon as I finish up with the lawyers,” he promises.

“Okay,” he says. After a moment, Derek bites his bottom lip nervously. “Uncle Peter, is he going to live here with us and be our other uncle?”

Peter raises his eyebrows at this. He walks up to the boy’s bed and sits down on the edge. “Well,” Peter begins, “he is going to move here with us. That’s one of the reasons why he went back to New York. He has to get everything straightened out with work and his apartment.” Peter straightens out Derek’s covers, smoothing down the quilt before continuing. “I would like for Stiles to be your other uncle, and I think Stiles would like that too, but it’s not something we’ve really discussed yet. How about you?” he asks kindly. “Are you okay with Stiles being your other uncle?”

Derek looks up at Peter and nods his head. “I think...I think it would be nice to have more family,” he says shyly, a faint blush staining his cheeks as he tightens his hold on his stuffed wolf.

Peter looks down at the boy a little sadly. “Yeah kiddo, I think it’d be nice to have more family too.” The man leans over and gives the boy a kiss on his forehead. “Sleep tight, buddy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, uncle Peter,” the boy says with a yawn as Peter walks to the door.

Peter looks back at his nephew who is already starting to fall asleep. He flips the light off and quietly walks away to check on Laura.

  


It’s only 9 pm, but Peter feels exhausted. He’s already in bed staring up at the ceiling. No matter how hard he tries to relax, he can’t seem to fall asleep. He double checks his phone and considers calling Stiles to say good night. It’d be midnight in New York, but Stiles is known to be a night owl when in the middle of writing a book. As if on cue, the phone sounds in his hand and Stiles’ picture lights up the screen. Swiping quickly to answer, Peter brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hello,” he answers after clearing his throat.

“Hey, Peter, did I wake you?” Stiles asks.

“No, no, you’re good. I was actually looking at the phone and wondering if I should call you or if would be too late,” the man admits. “So, perfect timing,” he says with a smile into the dark.

Stiles laughs. “Great minds think alike. I was hoping I’d catch you after the kids were in bed. Did I get it right?”

Peter quietly chuckles. “Yeah, you got it right,” he says rolling over to face away from Stiles’ side of the bed. Maybe if he faces this way he can pretend Stiles is here with him instead of on the other side of the country he thinks as he settles in for their nightly conversation.

 

~~~~~

 

It’s another week and a half before Peter and the kids can fly out to New York City. Peter has been dreading the flight with three kids, but he has to say he’s impressed. Laura and Derek step up and helps out with Cora, keeping the littlest Hale entertained while they wait to board the plane and during the flight. Peter knocks on his tray for good luck, ignoring the strange looks from his fellow passengers.

When they land, they grab their carry-on’s and Peter straps Cora to his chest. He’s decided to forgo bringing the stroller, figuring either him or Stiles will have her strapped to their chests while out and about. Stiles has managed to borrow a pack n’ play for Cora to sleep in from one of his friends, so that’s good at least.

Stiles is waiting for them at the baggage claim holding an obnoxious sign made with glitter and bright neon paint in one hand and his cell phone in another to take pictures. Laura gets a fist bump in greeting and Derek has his hair tousled. Cora gets a peck on the top of her head to avoid her teeth and Peter gets a long deep kiss, much to the older two kids embarrassment. Cora of course, takes advantage of Stiles’ proximity and immediately grabs a fist full of his hair and tries to yank it to her mouth.

  
  


“Alright, does everyone have their stuff?” Stiles says while rubbing his hands together. At everyone’s agreement, he takes Cora’s diaper bag from Peter and tosses the sign in a nearby garbage can. “I figure we can take two cabs to your place,” Stiles says. “I’ve already begun packing all my clothing up and moving a few smaller items to your place. I went light on groceries, though,” he warns Peter. “I figure just some food for snacks and breakfast. Everything else we can pretty much order in or eat out so we don’t get stuck with tossing food out when we leave.

“Good idea,” Peter says. “Okay, which kid is going with who?” he asks his niece and nephew.

Derek looks between the two men, indecision on his face. Laura shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll stick with you in case you need help with Cora,” she says.

“How about it buddy, you okay with riding with me?” Stiles asks the young boy.

Derek beams back up at him and his ears turn a little pink. Stiles gives the kid a smile back before leaning over to peck Peter on the cheek. “Alright, we’ll see you guys in a short bit,” he announces before directing Derek into a waiting cab.

Peter turns to look at Laura, gesturing her ahead to the next cab in the queue. After climbing in, Peter looks at the girl. “That was nice what you did back there,” he says quietly.

The girl gives a small shrug and draws circles on her jean clad thigh. “It was nothing,” she mumbles.

Peter watches her for another moment before looking away. “Be that as it may, it was something for your little brother. I’m proud of you and I’m pretty sure wherever your mom and dad are, they are proud of you too.”

Laura sits there quietly, pressing her lips together tightly and stares out the window. “Thanks, uncle Peter,” she says softly.

Peter pats her lightly on her hand.

 

~~~~~

 

It takes the kids a while to settle down that night for bed. The three hour time difference is confusing them and Cora is wide awake. Peter eventually breaks down and runs to a nearby CVS to pick up some lavender bath wash and lotion that Stiles has found through Google that is supposed to calm babies down and help them sleep. He ends up buying the value size just in case along with the lavender scented baby powder. When he gets back Stiles looks amused.

“Don’t judge,” he says with a pointed look, and Stiles holds up his hands in innocence.

It takes low lights, lavender everything, and what feels like endless walking around before Cora finally drifts off to sleep on Peter’s shoulder. He carefully lays her down in the borrowed pack n’ play, hands hovering over her body when she grunts in her sleep. When no more noise is forthcoming, he slowly backs his way out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough so the hall light seeps in. Once he’s made it safely into the hall, he goes to hunt Stiles down, finding the man already waiting for him in their bedroom.

Peter closes the door, making sure to lock it. Stiles looks at him with a smirk and a raised brow and Peter strides forward. They meet with a frantic clash of their mouths, hands tugging on clothing while trying to touch as much of each other as possible while disrobing at the same time. Stiles gets tangled in his shirt and Peter huffs a laugh against his torso where he’s kissing his way down the man’s body.

“Jesus, Peter,” Stiles groans out as the man swirls his tongue around his belly button before licking a path down his happy trail, hands undoing Stiles jeans and dipping beneath the waistband.

“Oh my God, why can’t I get this damn shirt off?” Stiles squawks out in frustration, nearly strangling himself in the process before finally tugging himself loose. He tosses the shirt over his shoulder before reaching down to run his hands through Peter’s hair, pausing to tug at the locks.

Peter has given up on taking the rest of his clothes off, stopping after he’s undone the fly to his jeans. Instead, he rubs his face into Stiles inner hip, shoving his nose into the crease and breathing in heavily the other man’s scent. He tugs Stiles pants down further and peels them down pale thighs, helping to tug them off as the man steps out of them. Peter turns his head and places a kiss along the side of Stiles’ cock and the younger man gasps out against the sensation of warm lips and hot breath caressing his skin.

“Peter?” Stiles chokes out when he feels his lover slip a cock ring onto him.

Peter runs his hands up Stiles’ legs before reaching around to palm Stiles’ ass, bringing him closer so he can swallow him down and Stiles hunches over with a low moan, grip tightening in Peter’s hair.

“Jesus fuck, Jesus fuck,” he chants out, abs tightening quickly as he braces himself from falling over. Peter’s taken him all the way to the back of his throat and it’s so hot and wet. He whimpers out another cry when the man starts humming.

“Oh my God, Peter!” he chokes out more loudly than intended, struggling not to force his hips further forward.

Peter pulls back with a strong suck before popping off. He looks up at Stiles. “I will gag you,” he warns the man grimly, “if you can’t stay quiet.”

Stiles stares back at him wide-eyed, shaking his head breathlessly. “Ye— Yeah, quiet,” he stammers back breathlessly.

Peter smirks at him, standing up and pressing a hard kiss to Stiles’ mouth before reaching down behind the man’s thighs to lift him up. Stiles wraps his legs around Peter’s hips, another small whimper escaping as his cock gets trapped between them. Peter kisses him deeply, hands kneading his legs where they grip them. There will be bruises tomorrow, but Stiles doesn’t care. He’s actually excited to see them, a nice reminder of having Peter back with him.

Stiles twists his head to the side for air and Peter mouths along his jaw and down his neck, hoisting the man higher in his grip so he can reach further down his body with his mouth.

“I prepped already,” Stiles groans out after a particularly hard nip to his collarbone.

“Good boy,” Peter whispers to him, tightening his hold before walking them over to the bed. They fall together and when Stiles is flat on his back, Peter reaches between his ass cheeks to check how loose the man is. There’s lube there and his fingers slide inside with little resistance.

“Lube or no lube?” he asks Stiles, looking him in the eye.

“No lube,” Stiles says back, swallowing hard. “Want to feel you tomorrow.”

Peter raises his brow.

“I used extra earlier,” Stiles replies, voice and gaze steady. “Promise.”

Peter stares at him another moment before reaching between them and tugging his cock out of underwear, making sure to smear as much of his own pre-come along the length. He pushes his underwear down just far enough to where it’s not too uncomfortable before lining up with Stiles’ hole. Maintaining eye contact, he pushes in, carefully watching for any signs of extreme discomfort. When none is forthcoming he continues until he seats himself fully and they hang there for a moment before he pulls back out and snaps his hips forward sharply. Stiles' mouth falls open in a silent cry and he squeezes his eyes shut. Peter reaches up and laces their hands together, stretching them above Stiles’ head and pinning him there. He keeps up the steady pace and Stiles grips his hands tightly, breathy little moans falling from his mouth as his head falls to the side with a whine.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Peter murmurs to him. “Just lie back and let me take care of you,” he continues. “Missed you so much. Missed this body, your tight little ass.” He punctuates this statement with a firm grind into Stiles. “Miss that pretty little mouth of yours,” he adds, leaning forward for a filthy kiss. “Just lie there, baby, and be a good boy for me.” Peter rubs his thumbs along Stiles hands in reassurance. “I promise, I’ll make you feel good tonight.”

Stiles opens his eyes, biting his lip before leaning up for another kiss. This kiss is slower, more gentle. Stiles sighs into it, melting back into the mattress slowly. Peter leans his forehead against Stiles’, nose lightly touching his. Stiles licks his lips, letting his legs fall open a little as Peter keeps stroking into him with the same unrelenting pace.

“Feels so good,” Stiles murmurs to Peter. “Missed you so much. Wanted to say fuck it and fly back my first night here without you,” he admits breathily. “Don’t want to be apart that long again,” he continues honestly, eyes fluttering shut after another swift stroke.

“Okay,” Peter whispers back hoarsely, and Stiles opens his eyes and holds his gaze steadily. “No more being apart that long again,” he promises.

“Deal,” Stiles whispers back to him, a smile lighting up his face.

They end up having sex two more times: once, hours later after Stiles spends considerable time and concentration rimming Peter open before sliding in with a groan and then again in the early morning light when Peter slowly rides Stiles to orgasm.

Stiles looks up dreamily at Peter as the older man leans forward and caresses his cheek.

“Perfect timing,” Peter says quietly when sounds start to float from the baby monitor on the nightstand.

Stiles sighs softly and leans into Peter’s hand, eyes fluttering shut as he places a kiss into the palm with a small smile on his face. “Love you,” he breathes out on another sigh.

Peter looks at him fondly, tracing his thumb along Stiles’ lips. “Love you too,” he says back softly.  

 

~~~~~

 

“Hey, Peter, how many boxes do you have in your room?” Stiles calls out as he tries to figure out how much more he needs.

“I’ve got about ten,” the man says, walking in carrying an armful. “Why? Do we need to get more?”

“Shit,” Stiles says, looking around his office. “Yeah, I still have a ton of things I need to pack up,” he says, scruffing up the back of his hair as he tries to calculate how much more he’ll need past the ten they already have. “Maybe we should transport what we want to keep over at your apartment first and then bring the empty boxes back here and re-use them for shipping things out to California,” he muses aloud.

Peter quirks his mouth, “That’s probably the best idea,” he agrees. “Is there anything here you think we should take over then?”

Stiles looks around, rubbing his mouth as he contemplates what he needs back in Beacon Hills and what will be easier to just leave here and buy an extra set in California. “Hmm...I’m thinking it’s best to ship all these books back home. I’ll be writing mainly there and just coming here for meetings and signings,” he says, turning to look at Peter. “Do you have room for some of this furniture, or should we ship it back and just convert one of the extra rooms into a writing room?”

Peter looks around the space. “I think we should probably ship most of the stuff in here back home. You already have things in my office, so I think we’re good there. Anything else you think you need it’s easy to buy and have delivered to the apartment.” As he looks around he thinks about what available space he has in the apartment’s office. “On second thought, though, maybe keep one of these smaller bookcases here,” he suggests. “I was planning on buying one, so this actually works out.”

“Okay,” Stiles agrees, slapping a bright green post-it note on the bookcase with ‘NYC’ written in black Sharpie. “What about the other rooms?” he asks, as they walk out to check on the kids.

“Toiletries to the apartment, ditch all the rest of your bath things unless you absolutely want to keep your shower curtain,” Peter says wryly.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Stiles snarks. “I’ll have you know Finding Dory is a beloved Disney character,” he says loftily.

“Good grief,” Peter says while rolling his eyes, “I’m dating a 5-year-old,” he sighs.

Stiles quirks his mouth at this.

When they enter the living room, they find Cora sitting in a box and Derek and Laura tossing her stuffed lovie every time she throws it on the floor. Half of the room is already packed and stacked near the door, ready to be taken over to Peter’s apartment. There’s a donation pile and a ship back home section too that still needs to be addressed, though.

“Alright kids, gonna need some help,” Stiles calls out with a clap of his hands. “Derek, my man, I need you to help me gather up my old towels. We’re going to drop them off at the local animal shelter today, okay buddy. The newer towels we’ll drop off at the local homeless shelter.”

Derek looks up at him. “Sure. Should I just pack them in a box too?”

“Nah, here, why don’t we use garbage bags instead. We need all the boxes we can keep,” he says with a snort.

As the boy runs off to start gathering all the old towels, Stiles turns to Laura. “Alright Laura, I need you to help your uncle Peter pick out what pillows and throws you think we should take to the apartment and which ones we should send back home.”

“Okay,” Laura says with a shrug, “I can do that. Use bags too?” she asks.

“Yes, that would be perfect,” Stiles says, reaching for his phone that is vibrating in his back pocket. “I’m going to start boxing up the dishes and silverware, and it looks like Dad and Melissa will be here shortly,” he shares as he reads his text message.

  
  


Once Stiles’ parents arrive, things pick up fairly quickly. Before long, their voices are echoing in the bareness of the rooms. Stiles does on last sweep through his office and bedroom before joining everyone else in the living room.

“Alright,” Peter says looking around, “the movers will be here tomorrow to pick up what needs to go back to California. We’ll drop off the rest of these donations tonight and bring what we need back to the apartment as well. We can clean the place after it’s completely empty tomorrow. Let’s just make sure we don’t take the cleaning supplies with us tonight, okay,” he instructs everyone.

As everyone gathers their personal belongings, Stiles looks around. “Where’s Melissa and Laura?” he asks his dad.

Noah shrugs his shoulder. “I don’t know,” he says, “they were just right there.”

“Hey Derek, do you know where your sister went to?” Stiles calls out to the young boy.

Derek pushes his glasses back up his nose. “I think they went to the bathroom together,” he says with a confused frown on his face.

“Huh,” Stiles mutters to himself. “Here, can you hold Cora for a moment, dad? I’m going to try and find them.”

Noah takes the little girl away from his son and settles her on his hip. She nuzzles into the man’s shoulder before resting her head against him and popping her fingers in her mouth. Stiles frowns at the unfairness of this. His dad just smirks back at him. Stiles rolls his eyes at him before walking away.

Stiles ends up running into Peter in the hallway, their arms coming up at the same time to catch one another before a full on collision can occur.

“Hey, have you seen Melissa and Laura?” Stiles asks him.

“Yes,” Peter says with a nod of his head. “They are in the bathroom. Doing girl things,” he says, grip tightening on Stiles arms where he’s holding him.

“Umm…okay… Is there a reason why you’re cutting the circulation of my arms off?” Stiles asks with a raised brow.

Peter stares at his boyfriend. “ _Girl things_ ,” he stresses, hoping the man catches his drift.

Stiles looks at him in confusion. “You keep saying that like I should know what you’re talking about, but I’m still clueless,” he confesses with a frown.

Peter looks around before leaning forward. “She got her period,” he hisses at the man. “We have a young woman instead of a little girl,” he says, voice rising a little at the end. He looks around again. “I’m not ready for this!”

Stiles looks at Peter in amusement. “Okay, gotcha. So, umm...maybe we should call Lydia for help then?” he suggests.

Peter gives Stiles a dirty look. “Melissa is already helping Laura out,” he snarks back.

“Well, yeah, and that’s probably for the best since she’s a woman and a nurse,” Stiles agrees, “but I was thinking more for us.”

Peter looks at him blankly. “For us?”

“Yeah, I mean she’s going to be depending on us to buy her things and it’s probably smart to know what’s best for her and what to expect. Melissa is going to be busy helping Laura out, so Lydia is probably the next best choice,” Stiles explains.

Peter makes a face at Stiles. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or freaked out that you’re handling this so well,” he admits.

Stiles looks back at him. “Trust me, I’m totally freaking out right now, but I don’t think that would make Laura feel any better. Plus, Melissa’s smacks tend to hurt, like a lot,” he admits, reaching up to rub at his head in memory. “Here I’ll text Lydia and ask her to meet up with us later this evening after dinner. I’ll explain to Melissa. I’m sure she and dad will be okay watching the kids while we run out and pick up some things.”

  


Lydia ends up instructing them to meet her after dinner at the closest CVS to Peter’s apartment. When they get there, she leads them to the feminine hygiene aisle. Peter pales and swallows hard while Stiles stares in horror at all the options.

“Why are there so many?” he whispers looking wide-eyed at all the products on display.

“Because everyone is made differently, Stiles, and women like choices,” Lydia says primly. “Now, since Laura is still pretty young, you’re going to want to get her these,” she says, pulling down a black box that has some type of silver holographic words on it. “These are designed specifically for younger ladies. Just make sure to look for the ‘tween’ on the box,” she instructs, pushing the box into Peter’s clammy hands.

“Umm…” Stiles raises his hand and Peter raises his eyebrows at him.

“Jesus, this isn’t a classroom, Stiles,” Lydia says in exasperation. “What do you want?”

“What if we can’t find the tween box?”

Peter looks back down at the box and looks back at Lydia for the answer.

“Good question, Stilinski,” she admits grudgingly. “You’ll want to get her these smaller sized pads here. Stick with ones that say thin and regular size. Always get wings,” she stresses.

“Wings?” Peter says faintly, overwhelmed that there are more specific things they need to remember than just ‘tween’.

“Wings,” she says jabbing a finger at the picture on the box.

Stiles peers over to take a look. “Huh, they really do look like wings,” he muses.

Peter gives him the side-eye and Stiles just shrugs back. “What?”

“Now for tampons,” Lydia begins and both Peter and Stiles pale.

  


They end up walking out with a bag filled with different options. There’s tween pads, pantyliners, tampons, feminine wipes to refresh with, night time pads. Both men’s heads are spinning with feminine hygiene information overload.

Stiles looks over at Peter. “We should probably take a picture of all of this,” he says shaking the bag, “so that we know what to buy in the future.”

Peter rubs his head. “Yeah, that’s actually a good idea.”

They stop and turn to look at Lydia. “Lydia,” Peter says holding out his hand, “thanks for helping us tonight. We would have been lost without you,” he says sincerely.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” she says with a raised brow. “Though I’m sure Stilinski here would just go on a research bender and figured everything out. Eventually,” she smirks at them.

“Hey!” Stiles protests. “I would have just gone straight to the research,” he says. “I wouldn’t mess around with this stuff. Seriously, though, thanks for your help, Lydia. You’re the best as always.” He leans forward to give his editor a big hug.

“Alright boys, good luck. Call me if you need anything else. Stiles, I’ll be in touch in regards of your latest manuscript. Peter, it was good to see you. I am sorry about your family,” she says with a sad smile. “I’m glad things are doing better, even if you are taking my favorite author away.”

Peter just gives her a wan smile, giving her a strong hug goodbye. “Thanks,” he whispers into her hair and Lydia just smiles into his shoulder before stepping away.

“Alright gentlemen,” she coughs as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Have a good night and try not to traumatize poor Laura,” she says dryly.  
Stiles snorts out a laugh. “Alright, fair enough. Night, Lydia, talk to you soon.” With these words, they part ways with the woman and go back home.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

 

They are finally all back in Beacon Hills together, arriving late the previous night. They’ve spent the entire day rearranging furniture and making more room for all the stuff they’ve shipped back from New York. Lunch consists of take-out, but now they need food for dinner and breakfast in the morning. Everyone wants to go into town, so they all pile into the minivan and head to the store. Peter’s stopped a few times in the parking lot and produce section, friends asking where he’s been and if he’s back for good now. After the fifth person, he starts to get a little tetchy with all the interruptions. He thinks they’re finally good when they make it to the dairy aisle uninterrupted, only to run into Chris.

“Peter?” the man voices hesitantly.

Peter stiffens up and Stiles looks curiously back at the new guy, an older man about their height closer in age to Peter than Stiles. Peter turns around and states a curt, “Chris, hello.”

Chris glances to the kids peering around the man standing next to Peter holding little Cora in a sling across his chest. He recognizes Derek and Laura and the guy seems familiar, maybe from the funeral he thinks. Peter looks tired but considerably better than he did several weeks ago when he last ran into him.

When no one says anything, Stiles speaks up. “Hi, I’m Stiles,” he says, stepping forward with his hand extended in greeting. “And you are…” he looks at Chris and Chris hesitates a moment before responding, grasping the younger man’s hand in a firm shake.

“Chris, Chris Argent,” he states, clearing his throat when it feels like it’s closing up.

Peter purses his lips into a firm line, discomfort clearly writ across his face.

Stiles steps back to his side and checks over his shoulder to see if Derek and Laura are still there. Laura stares back grimly while Derek just blinks up at him in confusion.

“So…” Stiles begins awkwardly.

This seems to rouse Peter, and the man turns to Stiles. “Why don’t you have the kids pick out some ice cream or popsicles for dessert,” he suggests. “I’ll just be a moment and I’ll join you,” he says with a forced smile.

“Sure,” Stiles says as Cora grasps a handful of his collar and tries to eat it, nearly strangling him in the process.

Peter’s smile becomes more honest at his niece’s antics, and he reaches over and tries to pet her flyaway hair down. It does the exact opposite though and instead makes it grow, more specifically towards Stiles’ mouth when he turns his head, getting a mouthful of staticky baby hair on his tongue. Peter snorts out a laugh as Stiles reaches up to wipe it off, fighting against Cora’s death grip when she lets go of his collar and grabs his wrist instead.

“Jesus, Chomper, stop trying to eat me,” he mutters shooting Peter an amused exasperated glance as he turns to grab the shopping cart’s handle. Cora’s response is to smack him in the jaw with a chortle.

Peter continues to stand there and watch his little family walk away, Derek holding onto the shopping cart as Laura makes her way ahead to the frozen dessert section. Cora is trying to bounce, little leg wiggling against Stiles’ back and Stiles turns his head to place a kiss on top of her head, neatly avoiding another mouthful of hair somehow. Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets and relaxes only to tense back up when a shuffle sounds behind him reminding him who is at his back. When he turns around, it’s to find Chris standing there with a carefully blank look on his face.

The two men stand there in an uncomfortable silence. Peter crosses his arms across his chest and looks around at the products next to him. Chris opens his mouth to speak but ends up closing it again when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say.

“Well, this was nice,” Peter says stiffly after another minute of tense silence. He can hear Derek and Laura haggling over whether to get ice cream or popsicles and honestly Peter would much rather be over there making sure they don’t pick out the gross patriotic rocket popsicles than standing here trying to avoid eye contact with his cheating ex.

“You came back,” Chris starts. “I heard people talking around town how you and the kids had left to go back to New York,” he continues, swallowing heavily. “Are you— are you back for good?” he asks hopefully.

Peter stares hard at the man. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he says coolly and Chris’ shoulders fall a little.

“I know you probably don’t want to take me up on the offer, but if there’s anything you need, anything at all, for the kids or yourself or anything at all, please let me know,” Chris insists with sincerity.

Peter nods his head at this, jaw starting to clench. “Thanks,” he says meeting the other man’s eyes again, “but I’ve already got all the help I need.” He gestures behind him towards Stiles.

“Oh, right, sure,” Chris says, flicking a glance over at the younger man who is cupping the back of Cora’s head while holding the freezer door open for the other two kids while they pull out their frozen treats.

Peter looks back at his family and he feels his body start to relax. “If that’s all, I need to go,” he says turning partially back to Chris without taking his eyes off of Stiles and the kids.

“Yeah, sure,” Chris responds a little helplessly, shoulders slumping completely when Peter walks away, not even bothering to say goodbye to him. He watches Peter reach out and lightly touch the other man, _Stiles_ Chris’ mind offers, sliding his hand down from Stiles’ elbow to the small of his back where it stays as they walk away together, the perfect little family.

 

~~~~~

 

Summer fades away into fall and Peter thinks they are starting to become a real family. School has started up and everyone is finally in a good routine. With Stiles return, everything seems to just fall into place. Peter has to admit his _their_ apartment looks more like a home instead of a bachelor pad when they left and the house now looks like it’s _theirs_. He’s pretty proud of how far they’ve come in such a short amount of time. Hell, they even have their own beast as the family pet too he thinks with a snort. (Because of course Stiles took one look at the animal and sided with the kids he thinks with fond exasperation.) Everything is slowly coming together and for the first time in months, Peter thinks he can stop holding his breath waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

~~~~~

 

“So Derek’s teacher sent home a note from the nurse saying she thinks Derek needs glasses,” Stiles says reading the paper as he sips his juice.

“Really?” Peter asks in surprise, looking at the young boy blushing next to Stiles. He drops another handful of cheerios in front of Cora to snack on.

“I have trouble seeing the board sometimes,” Derek mumbles shyly, ducking his head when both adults look at him.

“Okay, that happens,” Stiles says with a shrug. “I got mine in high school,” he tells the boy, tapping the side of his glasses, “though I wore contacts when I played sports. Easier when wearing a helmet,” he explains when Derek looks at him in confusion.

Stiles looks up at Peter to see what the man wants to do. Peter looks back at him blankly.

“So…” Stiles starts in amusement at Peter’s lack of response. “Who’s going to take Derek to get glasses? And when do we need to make this happen?”

Peter blinks for a moment and shakes his head. He looks over at his nephew and Derek is looking between Stiles and his uncle with shy hopefulness. “Well,” he clears his throat. “Maybe you should take him,” Peter suggests, and he knows he’s made the right suggestion when the boy ducks his head with a small smile on his face.

“Sure, no problem,” Stiles agrees easily. “Maybe I’ll book an appointment for myself. I’m about due for my own annual and can probably use an updated prescription for my contacts.” He pulls out his cellphone and googles nearby eye doctors. “Do you know who your insurance carrier is?” he asks absentmindedly to Peter as he scrolls through his very limited choices.

“Ah, I can double check real quick. Let me go to the office and look it up,” Peter replies. He pauses to brush a quick kiss against Stiles temple before whispering a low ‘thanks’ in his ear.

Stiles hums out an acknowledgment before setting his phone down and picking up the paper again to put back into the envelope it came in. He reaches over and ruffles Derek’s hair before walking over to the bulletin board on the wall and tacking the envelope up.

“How about we have a snack before hitting the books?” he suggests to the boy with a smile.

 

~~~~~

 

Stiles manages to snag concurrent appointments for him and Derek the next week. When Stiles and Derek return from their eye appointments, Peter feels a ball of warmth in him. The two guys are wearing matching black rimmed glasses and the tips of Derek’s ears flushes pink when Peter compliments him on his stylish new eyewear.

“Thanks,” he mumbles shyly and hunches his shoulders when Laura comes around the corner. The older girl takes one look at Derek’s face and opens her mouth to say something snarky. When she spots Stiles’ matching pair, she pauses a moment before carefully ruffling Derek’s hair.

“I like your glasses, Der,” she announces. “You look good.”

Derek looks up at his older sister and smiles bashfully. “Thanks, Laura,” he says, pushing them higher up his nose.

She smiles back at him and when she looks up Peter winks at her and flashes a subtle thumbs up.

 

~~~~~

 

They’ve brought the kids back to the library, mainly for story time for Cora. The little girl started walking three weeks ago and immediately progressed to running. Too bad she hasn’t figured out the braking system, Peter thinks as she runs head first into Stiles’ legs before bouncing backwards to land on her butt with a giggle. The younger man just shakes his head fondly and leans down to pick her up. Cora gives a little shriek of laughter and rolls back to her feet, taking off as fast as her little legs will carry her. When she veers towards the entrance of the children’s room, both Peter and Stiles take off after her.

“Okay, we might need a leash,” Stiles admits to Peter as they both hurry after the little girl.

Peter just snorts back at his boyfriend. “Gee, you think,” he says sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

Cora lets out another happy shriek and when they round the corner they find the little girl seated at the feet of Chris. Peter slows down, but Stiles doesn’t notice, too busy apologizing to the man and retrieving the little girl before she can make another break for it.

When Peter draws close, Cora starts making grabby hands at Peter, and Stiles passes her along with a laugh.

“Peter,” Chris greets him, “she’s fast,” he says with a small smile.

“Yes,” Peter replies stiffly, not wishing to encourage any more conversation.

Stiles stands there awkwardly, not sure what is going on between the two men. Each encounter is fraught with tension and discomfort (on Peter’s part) and Stiles is always left feeling like he’s missing something important. Normally he wouldn’t pick up on it, but they’ve been running into Chris all over town lately, so it’s been difficult for even Stiles to miss.

Not wanting to keep standing around feeling awkward, Stiles tries to look at the book in Chris’ hands. “Oh, that’s a good book,” Stiles comments, pointing to the book the man is holding.

Chris looks down at the novel and back up at Stiles, blinking in surprise. “That’s what I’ve heard,” he responds. “I thought I’d give it a try,” he says with a smile. “Have you read just this one, or all the rest too?” he asks politely.

“Umm…” Stiles scratches his head before replying, “I...actually wrote the books,” he says sheepishly, giving the man a ‘what do you know’ kind of look.

Chris looks at him in surprise and then back to the book in his hand. “You...wrote this?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says with a shrug. “I’m a writer. That’s my first novel. I actually met Peter through my editor because they worked for the same publishing house,” he explains to the man.

“Oh,” Chris says quietly, “I see.”

Stiles smiles awkwardly at the man wondering just what he means by this.

Peter stands there feeling proud of Stiles. When Chris looks back to him, Peter just gives him a smug look back. Chris clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Well I should be going,” he says with a slight grimace. “It was good seeing you, have a good day. Stiles. Peter.” With those words Chris gives them a polite nod and walks over to an express checkout to check out his book.

“Bye,” Stiles says, confused at the man’s abrupt departure. When he turns to look at Peter, his boyfriend is making faces at Cora while pretending to eat her hand. He looks back at Chris who looks away quickly. “Alright then,” he mutters under his breath, “I guess we’ll just pretend nothing happened.”

 

~~~~~

 

“So, I think there’s something I need to tell you,” Peter says slowly.

Stiles looks up from his book and watches as Peter sits down across from him in the study.

“Okay, sure, go ahead,” he says, placing a bookmark to mark his spot and setting the book on the coffee table.

Peter takes a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start.

“Remember how I told you I was in a long-term committed relationship with someone and was engaged?” he begins.

Stiles nods his head in affirmation at this. “Yeah, sure, I remember the conversation,” he says. “He cheated on you and you moved to New York for a job Lydia was offering, right?” Stiles furrows his brows as he tries to remember all the details. He looks curiously at Peter waiting for the man to continue.

“Right, yes, well that man was Chris. Chris Argent,” Peter says looking down at his hands before looking back up at Stiles. “I was engaged to Chris for eighteen months before it fell apart,” he admits quietly.

Stiles sits there in silence as he thinks about how to respond. “Okay...that would make sense as to why you aren’t completely comfortable around the man whenever we run into him,” he acknowledges. After a moment of silence from Peter, he hesitantly asks, “Is there a reason why you wanted to share this?”

Peter looks back steadily. “I just realized that we’re pretty serious here and I, you, _we_ keep running into Chris. I thought it was important for full disclosure, so there’s nothing hidden between us.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles says in surprise. He blinks at Peter. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” he says back. He scratches the back of his head and waits for Peter’s next move. When Peter continues to sit stiffly across from him, Stiles stands up.

Peter looks questioningly up at him and Stiles steps over and holds out his hand, pulling the man up when he takes it.

“Seriously,” Stiles says, “thank you for being honest.” He gives the man a small smile. “I wasn’t really too concerned about running into your ex someday, but it’s nice to know why you aren’t happy to be around the man.” He reaches up and holds Peter’s face between his hands before leaning forward and kissing him. Peter relaxes into Stiles, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. When they break apart, he rests his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck.

“Thanks,” he says. “I just wanted you to know the truth.” He tightens his hold, burrowing a little closer.

“Okay, duly noted,” Stiles says, kissing the side of Peter’s head. “I appreciate it.”

 

~~~~~

 

Peter’s tense over the next few days. They’ve run into Chris no less than four times while running errands in town and Stiles hasn’t once brought up their conversation from the other night. Peter is a little anxious at Stiles’ lack of response. The next time they encounter Chris out in public the younger man justs smiles politely and continues on his way as if nothing is different, and Peter turns to him no longer able to keep quiet.

“You really don’t mind?” he says with furrowed brow and Stiles turns to look at him with raised brows.

“Mind what?” he asks quizzically as he continues down the sidewalk towards where they parked the van.

“That,” Peter gestures behind them. “Chris being my ex-fiance.”

Stiles stops and turns to look at Peter, drawing the man off to the side so they don’t block any foot traffic. “Am I supposed to be?” he asks in confusion.

“Well no, I’m glad you’re not actually. It’s just that I know if our roles were reversed I might have more of an issue,” Peter admits guiltily.

Stiles rubs his jaw in thought. “Huh,” he says. “Well,” he begins slowly, “I think I might have more of an issue if you had never mentioned him before, but you did. You just never mentioned his name. And why would you?” he shrugs. “We were living in New York, the odds of us ever encountering him were slim unless we became serious and I came to visit for the holidays. And honestly, even then it would have been a low chance of occurring.”

Peter stands there in silence and stares back at Stiles. Stiles just cocks his head and looks back. The spell is broken when Cora whimpers from the sling and Stiles absently drops a soft kiss on her head, arm coming up to rub across her back to keep her asleep. The little girl flexes her hand in Stiles shirt where she is gripping it, but otherwise doesn’t rouse. When Stiles looks back up, Peter has an inscrutable look on his face.

“What?” Stiles asks. “Is there something on my face?” he questions, reaching up to touch his face.

Peter just shakes his head in the negative, stepping up closer to his boyfriend and niece. He reaches up and palms the back of Stiles’ neck, bringing the man close, uncaring if anyone is watching.

“You are amazing,” he says honestly, “and I am so fucking lucky to have you.”

Stiles smiles at him, blinking in puzzlement before Peter closes the gap between them for a long drawn out kiss.

A wolf whistle breaks them apart and Stiles ducks his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Love you too,” he says back with a smile across his face.

 

~~~~~

 

Peter can’t seem to let it go of the whole Chris thing in his mind. Yes, he wants too and he’s trying. In fact, with Stiles here, he doesn’t even think of Chris or their past or anything. It’s when he runs into Chris and the man tries to engage him every damn time that bothers Peter. Yeah, it is a smaller town and the odds of them encountering each other on occasion is not unusual, but to run into each other _every damn time_ he goes into town? That’s too fucking much Peter thinks. Chris has got to be doing it on purpose and he wants it to stop.

When Peter had got that phone call all those months ago, he knew that he’d inevitably be back in Beacon Hills permanently. There was never a question of this occurring. Old Peter would have secretly liked the attention Chris is giving him every time they run into each other, but new Peter? New Peter is moving on. Has moved on in fact, and Chris doesn’t factor into this new future he’s building. Yes, once upon a time he thought it would be Chris by his side doing this: raising a family, playing house, falling more in love each day. But his ex made his choices and Peter’s found someone who’s happily filling in his place. And Peter isn’t going to let anyone ruin that for them, _for him_ he thinks grimly.

So the next time Peter runs into Chris, he confronts the man. He lets out everything he’s been holding in for the past two plus years and he lets it go.

“You’ve got to stop this,” Peter states bluntly to Chris and Chris looks at him in confusion.

“Stop, what?” he asks back.

“This. Whatever this is,” Peter says gesturing between them. “The always making a point to talk to me when we run into each other. Always offering to help out. _It needs to stop,_ ” he stresses.

Chris looks back at him a little wounded. “I’m sorry,” he stammers, “I never meant any harm by it.”

“Be that as it may,” Peter says coolly, “I’m not comfortable with it. It’s unnecessary and frankly it’s starting to piss me off.”

“Peter,” Chris begins, reaching out his hands, and Peter makes an angry noise from the back of his throat, shooting Chris a dirty look. This causes the man to falter, and he drops his hands back to his side.

Peter takes a deep breath, getting ready to leave the study room of the library that they’ve ducked into so Peter could do this. Then he thinks fuck this. It’s probably his only chance to say what he wants, what he didn’t say all those years ago, and it’s time to let it go. It’s time to let Chris know that there’s no chance of forgiveness and no starting over from Peter’s end.

“I hate that you cheated on me, that you betrayed my trust,” Peter says in a cold fury. He takes a deep breath to calm himself before he continues. “I would have rather you just manned up and broke it off. Yeah, I would have been heart broken, but at least I would still be able to trust you. At least I would be able to walk around town and not feel like I’m being betrayed by memories of us. I would have _understood,”_ he stresses to Chris.

Chris stands there, hands balled into fists staring at Peter.

“But you know what,” Peter continues with a broken little laugh. “I’m kind of glad that it happened the way it did,” he admits, running his hand through his hair in sudden exhaustion.

At this confession, Chris looks at him with dawning realization growing in him.

Peter stares back defiantly before speaking again. “You helped lead me to Stiles and to the life I always wanted,” he says clearly and without hesitation.

At these words Chris flinches. There’s no arguing with Peter on this, it’s simply a matter of truth and Chris knows it. Knew it the moment he followed that woman into her hotel room and ran into Lydia in the lobby later that evening. He had killed any future he had with Peter. There would never be any redemption for him in Peter’s eyes.

Peter looks at the man tiredly. “Chris, I never thought I would have this after you,” he admits. “But I’ve finally moved on from our past,” he says sadly. “You need to move on too.”

Chris looks at him with pain filled eyes, searching for a different response than the one confronting him. When he realizes Peter isn’t bluffing he loses any motivation for persuading Peter to change his mind.

“Okay,” Chris says hoarsely. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry for not being honest and for destroying something so wonderful. I’m sorry I wasn’t willing to give you what you wanted,” he continues, “that I couldn’t compromise and meet you halfway. Just, I hope that you’re happy. I know how much you dreamt of building a family here and I hope Stiles can do for you what I never could,” he finishes in defeat and feeling shame.

Peter looks back to his past standing before him. “Him and the kids are everything I love,” he states honestly. “I’m so in love with my present that I wake up every day excited for our future. I hope you can find that someday Chris. I really do,” he says with complete sincerity.

Chris rubs his eyes before looking back at Peter. “Yeah, I get that,” he admits. “I’m glad you’re happy, Peter. I really am.”

“Thank you,” Peter says quietly. He takes a moment to really look at Chris one last time. As he goes to walk out the door, he tucks away everything that was them and seals it away. It’s time to leave the past in the past he thinks. His present and future are waiting at home for him and he can’t wait to be back with them.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

 

**_Epilogue:_ **

  


It’s Halloween evening and Peter has to admit Cora does look adorable, well more adorable than usual he concedes. Laura and Derek had helped Stiles track down a Chomper costume on Amazon to dress Cora in for Halloween and insisted she had to wear it. The results are hilarious. Her lack of brakes combined with her unwieldy tail has left for non-stop entertaining moments this evening for everyone who has witnessed them. As the little girl toddles over the lawn and roars, people coo and laugh. When another parent asks them who taught her to roar, both parents shrug. Peter doesn’t admit he’s the one who taught her how to do it, and Stiles doesn’t admit to over-hearing the lesson through the baby monitor.

  


Nat King Cole is singing quietly through the speakers about falling in love as Peter watches Stiles wipe the last mug dry before placing it in the cabinet. When he turns around, Peter is standing there with his arms raised and a smile on his face. Stiles blinks for a moment and gives him a smile back, stepping into the man’s waiting arms. As they slowly sway to the music, Peter rests his temple against Stiles. Cora is sitting on the floor in her Chomper costume gnawing on her paws, little-muffled roars trying to escape around the fabric while the Beast bats at her tail. Derek is bent over a book on the bottom step, absentmindedly pushing up his glasses every time he turns a page. Laura quietly walks down the stairs to take a seat above Derek to watch her uncles like she used to watch their parents. When Peter makes eye contact she sends him a wink and flashes him a thumbs up sign. He smiles and flashes one right back at her as Stiles kisses the side of his temple.

**Author's Note:**

> *Additional tags will be added as story progresses.
> 
> **This story came about when I lost steam on my other two series and couldn't get this out of my head. Hopefully when this is completed, I can return to those.


End file.
